


Incorrect Jonsa Week

by jonsastan (lilzipop)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Modern AU, incorrect jonsa week, so like, this is all my stories for that in one work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 06:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilzipop/pseuds/jonsastan
Summary: This is the collection of one shots I wrote for Incorrect Jonsa Week





	1. You look like a Movie, You sound like a Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is the collection of One Shots a wrote for Incorrect Jonsa Week, feel free to check out my tumblr 'jonsastan' to see the edits that accompany the story. First prompt was : You look like a movie, you sound like a song and I did a Pride and Prejudice Au

Sansa smiled at Arya’s scowl as she’s whisked around the dance floor. Arya was annoyed at the amount of gentlemen who had asked for her hand in a dance. She should be complimented. At this dance ladies greatly outnumbered gentlemen. Robb and their new neighbour Daenerys Targaryen danced past Sansa, Robb smiling as he made Daenerys laugh. They would be a good match. She was the sister of some southern Lord and Robb was the heir to their father’s estate. A good match, as her mother kept insisting. 

 

After a turn about the room, Sansa found herself near Daenerys’ quiet nephew, Jon. After a moment Daenerys came to her nephew.

 

“Come now Jon! I must have you dance! You cannot hang out in this stupid manner.”

 

“You know I do not enjoy dancing, especially with someone who I am not well acquainted with.” Jon replied. 

 

“Look, there! That’s one of Mr Stark’s sisters! She extraordinarily beautiful, dance with her.” Daenerys was gesturing to Sansa, but Sansa made no sign that she could hear them. 

 

“She is tolerable, I suppose.” came the cold voice of Jon Targaryen. “But not handsome enough to tempt me. Go, enjoy the charm of Robb Stark, your enthusiasm is wasted on me.” 

 

Sansa suppressed a smile. Many would be insulted by this stranger’s harsh words but Sansa found amusement at this southern lords high handedness. She made her way calmly past him toward Arya, who was sitting out, to tell the joke. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was with the greatest annoyance that Sansa allowed Jon Targaryen to be announced to her. She had begged off visiting his Father and Daenerys’ Brother, Rhaegar, but was now trapped with the more brooding of the two Targaryen sons. 

 

He entered and began to converse about benal topics of her health and the weather, before kneeling before her. 

 

“In vain I have struggled, it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” His voice began strong and assured, but soften at the end of his sentence. His grey eyes stared at hers and she felt her heart clench. 

 

When he continued, she felt rage rise within her. 

 

“Despite the history between my family and yours, despite the behaviour of your brothers and sister and even your father, despite the disparity between our stations in life, I wish to marry you.”

 

Sansa took a deep breath and rose from her seat, moving away from him and his emotive eyes. 

 

“If I could feel gratitude now, I would thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. Please forgive me if I have given you any cause to believe that my affections were engaged or your to be encouraged, it was unconsciously done.” Her hands were clenched, her anger boiling beneath her cool exterior.

 

He moved to the mantle and took a breath. His eyes were filled with anger, confusion, pain. 

 

“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected.” His voice burnt with anger.

 

“I might enquire with so little attempt to hide your own disdain for my character, family, and station you resolve to tell me you like be against your will! Was this not reason enough for any perceived incivility?” She snapped, turning to face him, her fists still clenched at her side. “Had my feelings toward you been neutral or even favourable, even those feelings would have died when you stole the happiness of a most beloved brother? And what of your crimes against Gendry Waters? Do you deny that you have revealed in his misfortune, in the scandal of his birth?” 

 

“Yes, his misfortune. It is great indeed.” Jon all but scoffed.

 

“And now you ridicule him!”

 

“And this is your opinion of me?” Jon strode toward her, stopping mere inches from her person. “My faults by your calculation are great indeed, but perhaps they would not be so foul had I not insulted your pride by acknowledging the failings of your family or your status. Perhaps if I had flattered you, hidden my misgivings and lied about them you would have felt differently, But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence!”  He all but spat at her. 

 

“You are mistaken, Mr Targaryen, if you believe the mode of your address could have affected my answer in any way. You have merely saved me any worry I might have felt at rejecting you had you behavioured in a more gentlemanlike manner. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

_ Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I merely wish to clarify some of the egregious charges laid before me by you.  _

 

_ You first charged me with the destruction of happiness of a most beloved brother. I had not been in Winterfell long when I saw, along with others, Daenerys’ preference to your brother above all others. I watched and observed their interactions and whilst Mr Robb Stark showed polite deference and cordiality to Miss Targaryen, I saw no unique favour or love. So to save a most beloved family member pain and heartache I separated the two.  _

 

_ If I was mistaken in my understanding of your brothers feelings, I apologise heartily and completely. I can offer the only defence that if the feelings between our two family members had been as powerful and consuming as you believe, a mere separation would not have hindered them. _

 

_ The second charge you laid before me was my treatment of Gendry Waters. I will not deny that I have not acted to aid Mr Waters in his path in life, nor do I intend to. His family, having been closely entwined with my own, disgraced themselves thoroughly when they attempted to steal property, assets, and titles with a selfish motive. I have revealed in the bastard nature of Mr Waters birth when I was younger, and whilst I can see how this is an immature means of gloating, I cannot feel sorry for this. Mr Waters has shown himself to be a man of trade and mean understanding. He does not attempt to rise above his birth and better himself but will rely on the sympathy and pity of others. This behaviour is abhorrent to me.  _

 

_ If you have any doubts about the truth of the history between my family and Mr Waters, or the personal history between myself and that man, you may apply to my brother for a complete narrative. Although we have clashed and been at odds, I have always been honest with you.  _

 

_ I will end by saying I mean you no ill will and wish you all the best in your life.  _

 

_ Gods Bless and keep you.  _

 

_ Jon Targaryen. _

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“And to think, I could have been mistress of all this.” Sansa sighed as she took in the extensive and beautiful grounds of Dragonstone. There was a range to please all, manicured lawns, neat and tidy gardens, and a kind of rugged wilderness that reminded Sansa of Winterfell and the North. 

 

She had met Jon Targaryen there. It was a complete accident and at first, Sansa thought, a complete misfortune. He was drenched from an impromptu swim in his pond, and she was flustered, not wanting him to think she was vying for his attention. But as she had attempted to make her hurried escape, he had found her and invited her parents to stroll with him around the gardens. He had offered her kindness, and thoughtfulness, he had talked with her parents, discussed the present state of politics with her father and chatted knowledgeably about gardens with her mother. 

 

They had been staying near Dragonstone for a couple of days, a tentative friendship being cultivated between Jon and herself, when the letter came from Robb. Arya had run off with Gendry Waters and Robb didn’t know where she had gone. 

 

Jon had found her when she had read the letter. He had offered her support and care, sending for her parents, and then he’d left. And her heart ached. Ached for her sister, who may be lost, ached for her parents, and the worry they would suffer, ached for Jon Targaryen and the love that would never be. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Arya had returned from Kings Landing, as Arya Waters. Gendry had never had any innoble intentions. He’d wanted to stay at Winterfell and plead with their parents to allow Arya to marry him. Arya had not wanted to wait, had not wanted permission. She wanted to marry Gendry and she had. 

 

Her parents had been displeased and worried, having travelled half the countryside to find the couple before a scandal could emerge, but finally Gendry and Arya had turned up in the Vale as Mr and Mrs Waters. 

 

It wasn’t until Arya was back in Winterfell and attempting to settle her life that she spoke of Jon.

 

“And Mr Targaryen was most kind once Gendry explained how he did not want to have anything to do with the Baratheons and their ridiculous attempt to-”

 

“Mr Targaryen?” Sansa interrupted. Arya nodded.

 

“He was at our wedding. He helped get Gendry capital to start the forge and offered to aid any venture Gendry would like to have in the south. He thought Gendry wanted to take over where Robert Baratheon had left off, but Gendry told Mr Targaryen that he had no such plans, he wanted to work hard and honestly and Mr Targaryen seemed to approve.”

 

“Mr Targaryen helped you wed? Helped Gendry raise capital?” Sansa felt all the breath leave her lungs. Her heart swelled at the generosity, the empathy, the open mindedness that Jon Targaryen must have shown to approach and aid Gendry and Arya, her heart shuddered at the thought that he was exposed further to the scandal and unconcern her family showed to society. 

 

“He was most kind. He also mentioned that Daenerys and himself might be returning to the neighbourhood soon.” Sansa’s heart leaped. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I will not have it Miss Stark, I will not.” Rhaegar Targaryen had spoken with a frank and almost callous manner. “Jon has been promised to Martell cousins since birth. It was his mother’s greatest wish. You are not his equal in either status or breeding and I will not have it!” 

 

“Excuse me sir! To what are you referring?” Sansa snapped, her blood boiling, her voice cooling.

 

“This perpostuois rumour that you have engaged yourself to my son. I will not have it Miss Stark. It is impossible. Jon is man of breeding and status-”

 

“He is a gentleman, I am a gentleman’s daughter, thus far was are equal.” Sansa stood tall, determined not to be intimidated by this man. 

 

“But you do not deny it! You do not deny that you are attempting to ensnare my son!”

 

“You yourself have declared such a union impossible!”

 

“Do you deny it? Are you engaged to my son?” Rhaegar’s face was turning an alarming shade of red. 

 

“No.” Sansa said, her voice firm, her heart aching a little at the truth. 

 

“And can you promise me to never engage yourself to him?” Rhaegar's colour was beginning to fade.

 

“No.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Robb had wasted no time once Daenerys Targaryen had resumed residence around Winterfell. He had called on her and Jon and asked for her hand in marriage. It was a most joyous occasion. In the days following Sansa found herself in the company of Jon an awful lot, but never alone. She wished to thank him for the service he had rendered to her family.

 

Finally, as Robb and Daenerys strolled in front of them Bran said he was going to go and visit with Meera and Jojen Reed, leaving Jon and Sansa to chaperone the engaged couple. 

 

It was a moment before Sansa mustered up the courage to speak. 

 

“Mr Targaryen, I am a selfish creature and as such will give myself relief, even it means exposing you to embarrassment.” She dared not look at him, at those grey eyes that seemed to know her very being. “Thank you, for you assistance in securing the happiness to one beloved sister and one beloved brother. You have done my family a great service. Thank you sir.”

 

“If you must thank me, let it be for yourself alone.” She stopped and looked at him. His voice was tender, vulnerable. “As much as I have come to admire and respect your family, I believe I thought of you alone.” Her breath hitched in her breast and her heartbeat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.” His eyes suddenly would not meet hers. He stared at his feet. 

 

“My affections have changed so much since then. They are now quite opposite.” Jon’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers. They were filled with such joy, such hope, such love that Sansa could not help the giggle that seemed to overflow from her lips. She turned from him, not trusting herself to not act in a manner most compromising and attempted to uncover the evolution of his feelings. 

 

“How did you know my feelings were not the same?” She asked. 

 

“My father.” He chuckled at this. “He was most displeased after his attack upon you. When he told me you refused to promise never to engage yourself to me… It taught me to hope, as I had never hoped before.” 

 

Sansa let her fingers brush his and before she realised what she’d done, their hands were entwined. 

 

“But how did you begin?” She asked, not acknowledging their clasped hands as they walked. “I can see you continuing charmingly once you had fallen, but I cannot grasp or comprehend a beginning.” She teased. 

 

“I cannot fix upon the hour, or the spot, or the look that laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun.” He murmured, his voice full of emotion and tender care. Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the sweet words that her love had whispered to her and her alone. “And what of you? When did your feelings alter so drastically?” 

 

Unable to resist teasing him she replied “Upon seeing the grounds of Dragonstone.” Jon laughed and Sansa decided she wanted to hear that sound everyday for the rest of her life.


	2. One Trope to Rule Them All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fake Dating trope! Check out my tumblr 'jonsastan' for accompanying edit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of the 'Incorrect Jonsa Week' was One Trope to Rule them All and I did a Modern Fake Dating Au.

“I can’t go to Joffrey and Margaery's wedding alone!” Sansa wailed, dropping her forehead to the table. Jon tried not to chuckle. “It’s bad enough to go to your ex’s wedding alone, but to go to your ex’s wedding alone when he’s marrying your ex-best friend is even more pathetic.” Robb sighed from the kitchen. 

 

“I told you, I’ll go with you.” He reassured, placing a mug of tea on the table next to Sansa’s head. 

 

“That’s even more pathetic.” Came Sansa’s muffled voice. 

 

Jon couldn’t help but chuckle. 

 

“What about Jon?” Robb asked. Jon stopped smiling. Sansa’s head shot up.

 

“ _ What _ about Jon?” She asked.

 

“Why doesn’t Jon take you?” Robb suggested, sitting down opposite Sansa. “You could post some pictures leading up to the wedding and go out a couple of times to make it seem like you’re dating.” He took a sip of his tea. “You said Margaery thought Jon was hot, so you’ll make her jealous, and Joff was always intimidated by Jon. It’s a win-win.” 

 

Sansa nodded. “It could work.”

 

“Is no one going to ask Jon what he thinks?” Jon called from the lounge. 

 

“Jon will help out his friend because she regularly cooks him dinner, as well as picking him up from the Night’s Watch Pub when he’s had too much to drink and did not even complain when he vomited all over her backseat 2 weeks ago!” Sansa called back. 

 

“Jon wants to let Sansa know he already has a suit.” 

 

“Sansa thanks Jon.”

 

“Can you please stop talking in the third person.” Robb said. “It’s really weird.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Sansa asked again. Jon rolled his eyes. 

 

“Shut up and kiss my cheek so I can take the selfie.” Sansa smiled and then planted her lips on his cheek.

 

She heard the camera shutter sound from his phone click a couple of times before she pulled away. 

 

“How’d we do?” She asked looking over his shoulder as he swiped through them. “Oh! I like that one! We look freakin’ adorable! Post that one!” 

 

“What’s our caption?” He asked, opening Instagram and applying a filter quickly. 

 

“Something simple? Burgers with the bae?” She suggested. 

 

“Oh! I know.” Jon turned his phone screen away from her and tapped out a caption before tagging her and posting it. 

 

“Jon!” She cried. “I didn’t get to see!” Her phone beeped, letting her know she’d been tagged in something.

 

“You can see now!” He replied, flopping back onto her bed.

 

Sansa opened her instagram and tapped on the photo Jon had tagged her in. The captioned read ‘ _ Not to brag, but @Sansypants and I are the cutest couple.’ _ Sansa grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


“Jon! Pout with me. It’ll be awesome.” 

 

“I’m not pouting like a teenage girl at a Jonas Brothers concert.” Jon replied, concentrating on making sure Sansa didn’t drop her heels, or her clutch, or her phone as she walked toward his car. 

 

They’d gone to Bran’s art show together as a ‘couple’ and were dressed up. Sansa looked stunning in a tight black dress, and Jon had made an effort to look like he belonged. 

 

“Please!” She begged. “Look, Robb is just here! Robb! Robb!” She was shouting across the carpark at her brother. “Take a photo of Jon and I!”

 

“I’m not coming across the entire car park to take a photo, Sansa!” Robb yelled back. Sansa frowned. She became a bit demanding when she was tipsy and she’d had five flutes of champagne on an empty stomach

 

“You don’t love me!” She shouted and Jon heard Fryd laugh from there. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ Sansa!” Robb shouted, before dutifully coming across to them “You’re luck Fryd thought this was funny.” He muttered, grabbing Sansa’s phone. “Ready?”

 

“Pout with me Jon!” She insisted. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled his best ‘blue steel’ look. 

 

“Okay, got it. Can I go home now?” Robb asked, handing Sansa her phone.

 

“Yes!” She hugged him and kissed his cheek. “You’re my favourite big brother.” 

 

“I’m your only big brother.” He replied beginning to walk away. 

 

“Only until Rickon grows a bit more!” She called. Jon laughed. 

 

“Let's get you home.”

 

“You’re such a good boyfriend Jon.” She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked. “I want to date you for real sometimes.” 

 

Jon’s heart skipped a beat, but he doubted she’d remember in the morning. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was the day of the wedding and Sansa’s stomach was in knots. It wasn’t because she was seeing Margaery for the first time since she had moved out abruptly, leaving Sansa short on rent. I wasn’t because she was seeing Joffrey, the boy who’d hit her and told her she was useless.

 

It was because Jon Snow was holding her hand. It was because Jon Snow was whispering comforting words in her ear. It was because Jon Snow’s sweet scent of citrus and aftershave was wafting toward her. 

 

She’d enjoyed dating Jon, and she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to stop going to galleries and pubs and movies together. She didn’t want to stop dropping by his and Robb’s place after work with stories about the publishing house. She wanted him to call with stories about Sam and Gilly’s halting romance. She wanted to date Jon Snow. And she’d told him. But he hadn’t said anything. 

 

She’d posted that, admittedly cute, photo on her Instagram with the caption ‘ _ Lucky to be in love with my best friend @aejonsnow _ but hadn’t brought up her confession. And now his hand was in hers, and his lips brushed her ear, and all she wanted to do was grab him and kiss him and not stop kissing him. 

 

“Sansa?” She turned toward him and he smiled. “I asked if you’re okay.” 

 

“Oh.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.” Jon looked concerned now. 

 

“Sansa.” He reached up and cupped her cheek with his hand. She shut her eyes for a moment and brought her hand up to cover his. 

 

“Dance with me.” She said, smiling. Jon smiled and rose, leading her on to the dance floor. It was a slow song and Jon pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. She could feel the heat of his arm and rested her hand on his chest whilst her other hand was still in his. 

 

_ Fuck he smells good.  _

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jon stood in front of his front door. He held his keys in his hand and his phone in the other. He was about to text Sansa to make sure it was okay he was coming over with Thai food to finish watching that medieval magic drama show, when he realised they didn’t need to fake date anymore. 

 

“Just go over!” Robb called from the living room. “You’ve been standing there for 5 minutes! Just go and ask my sister on a real date!” 

 

“But what if Sansa doesn’t want to date me for real?” Jon called back. 

 

“Sansa does want to date you! I know she does!” 

 

“But how do I know?” Jon argued.

 

“Why don’t you ask Sansa?” Came Sansa’s muffled voice from the other side of the door. 

 

“Fuck.” Jon muttered. He opened the door. “You heard that?”

 

Sansa moved forward, her arms wrapped around his neck and she slowly, carefully brought her lips to his. It took him a moment, before responding but her responded. His lips moving over hers, his hands wrapping around her waist pulling her closer. 

 

“Can you guys start talking?” Robb called. “I can hear you kissing and it’s weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any and all mistakes, my work is unbeta'd. Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	3. But that's my Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa PoV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from 'Incorrect Jonsa week' was: But that’s my point of view and I chose Sansa's PoV. This one is pretty short, just so you know.

Sansa’s heart ached. It had never ached in this way before. Not when Joffrey would have her beaten, not when the Queen would deride her, not when Ramsey would take his pleasure, not even when they had taken her father’s head and her childhood. 

 

But it ached now. It ached so much that she thought it might break, or stop, or freeze. 

 

No one knew that her heart was aching. She was still the Lady of Winterfell, and she must do her duty. She organised armour, distributed food, prepared the smallfolk. She made sure Bran was warm as he sat by the Heart Tree, she made sure Arya was resting between training sessions, she made sure Ghost was well fed and groomed. 

 

_ Ghost, white as snow. Snow. Jon.  _

 

She tried not to think about Ghost’s master, about the man she thought a brother, about the man that was her cousin, about the man she had feelings for, feelings she shouldn’t have. She tried not to think of him. 

 

But she did. 

 

She remembered his smile, his laugh, the touch of his lips to her forehead. She remembered the way his eyes had darkened when he beat Ramsey, and the weight of his arms around her, the solemn tone in which he promised to protect her .

 

_ No one can protect anyone. _

 

It was true. Because Jon Snow had protected her body, had taken Winterfell with her, had left the North with her. But he had taken her heart. 

 

And it was aching. Even now when he was coming home to them. It ached. Because he was not coming alone. 

 

He’d given away the North. He’d given away her home. He’d promised to protect her and he’d broken her heart in a way she thought it could not be broken again. 

 

Sansa’s heart ached. Sansa’s heart waited. Sansa’s heart yearned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please forgive my mistakes, my work is not beta'd. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	4. You meme a lot to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meme a lot to me - Netflix and Chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Incorrect Jonsa Week' Prompt was: You meme a lot to me and I chose Netflix and Chill. Feel free to check out my tumblr 'jonsastan' for matching edit.

“You wanna grab some pizza and we can Netflix and chill?” Jon’s coffee almost came out his nose. 

 

“W- what?” He stammered into his phone

 

“Pizza, Netflix, chill?” Sansa replied, sounding a little confused.

 

“Umm.. Yeah sure.” He replied. His mouth feeling dry, his heart racing. 

 

“Cool, I’ll bring pizza and be over around 7.” Sansa hung up and Jon stood still, his phone still pressed to his ear. 

 

“Fuck me.” He whispered to his empty apartment. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He’d dusted and vacuumed and mopped and cleaned his kitchen and vacuumed the couch and changed his sheets and showered and changed outfits (like 4 times) and made sure he had beer and wine and soft drink… and condoms. He’d done everything he could think of and it was still half an hour before Sansa was supposed to arrive. 

 

What was he supposed to do when she got here? Was he supposed to kiss her? Sweep her off her feet, strip her naked and make her scream his name? He wanted to. 

 

_ But she’ll have warm pizza _ . 

 

Maybe they should eat first, like an actual date? Have something to drink, a tender kiss as they put the dishes in the sink, Jon could push her up against the counter, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other hand getting lost in her hair before striping her naked and making her scream his name?

 

Seven Hells, maybe she’d make the first move. As they sat on his couch, with some old movie they both weren’t watching in the background, her hand would touch his knee, then moved up to his thigh, then they’d be kissing, and Sansa would be straddling his lap, before he striped her naked and made her scream his name?

 

_ Stop thinking about it or you’ll have a hard on before she even touches you. _

 

His doorbell rang and he frown. It was still about 20 minutes before Sansa was supposed to arrive. He opened the door and Arya smiled at him.

 

“Arya?” He asked, not moving to let her into his apartment. 

 

“Jon.” She replied, pushing past him. She paused when she got past the threshold. “Fuck, this place is clean. Who’s coming over, the Queen?” She chuckled. 

 

“Sansa.” He replied, still holding the door open, but a blush running up his cheeks. 

 

“And what, you’re having an open house? Sansa’s been here before, she knows it’s usually a mess.” Arya turned to face him. “What aren’t you tell me?” 

 

He looked at his feet as he replied.

 

“She wanted to Netflix and Chill.” 

 

“So?” Arya shrugged. 

 

“Well, I mean- I just- Didn’t Gendry clean his place the first time you guys, you know- Netflixed and chilled?” His whole face felt like it was bright red. He’d never spoken to Arya about sex or boys. She’d always seemed like a little sister, even though they weren’t related.  Arya started laughing. 

 

“Oh! You think Sansa wants to have sex with you!” 

 

“Umm, yeah. That’s what Netflix and Chill means.” His face was burning now. 

 

“Not to Sansa. See?” She walked over and held her phone out for him to see a text from Sansa to Arya asking if they could Netflix and Chill the latest season of Stranger Things this weekend.

 

“Oh.” Said Jon, his heart sinking through his stomach, past his knees and probably making its way to the molten core of the Earth. 

 

Arya smiled and patted his cheek.

 

“Maybe you can turn it into a Netflix and  _ Chill _ evening?” She winked at him before leaving. 

 

“Why’d you come over?” He almost shouted as she walked down the corridor.

 

“Wanted to hang, but you’re busy. I’ll see what Bran’s up to. Good luck trying to have sex with my sister!” She waved before disappearing down the stairs. 

 

“Fuck me.” He whispered. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“It’s open!” Jon shouted from the kitchen. He’d changed into sweatpants and a hoodie, figuring if they were going to binge a tv show, he might as well be comfortable. 

 

“I’m holding pizza and beer Jon! I have no hands to open the door!” Sansa called back. 

 

“Shit.” He swiftly moved and opened the door, grabbing the pizza boxes. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He paused as he saw Sansa. Her long red hair was loose around her, she had boots on with leggings and an oversize grey jumper with the words “Winterfell University” Embroidered across the chest. Jon knew if he asked her to turn around the word “Snow” sould be stitched on the back. 

 

_ It’s my uni jumper. Gods she’s hot.  _

 

“I’ll put these in the fridge.” She moved past him toward the kitchen, kicking off her boots as she went and Jon shook his head. 

 

_ Just friends eating pizza and watching Netflix _ . He reminded himself.

 

It was after they’d finished eating and they sat on the sofa watching that Sansa threw her legs up across his lap and snuggled close to his side. He lifted his arm and Sansa rested her head on his shoulder, whilst his arm moved around her waist, holding her close. 

 

They’d done this before. Sansa was a notorious snuggler. If anyone watched anything with Sansa they were getting snuggled. 

 

“Fuck, your nose is cold.” Jon exclaimed as Sansa nuzzled into his neck. 

 

“I’m cold.” She replied. 

 

“I can turn the heat up, or grab a blanket?” He began to pull away and Sansa’s hand made of fist of his hoodie as she held him to her. 

 

“No.” She muttered, resuming nuzzling his neck. “You’re so warm.” He felt frozen as her hand released his hoodie and moved across his chest to cup his jaw, holding him in place. He felt her lips brush a spot just below his ear and he shivered. 

 

“You’re cold too.” Sansa muttered. Her hand released his jaw and he almost whimpered at the loss of her touch, before her hand found his and guided it under her jumper and around her waist. 

 

“Fuck me.” He muttered as his hand met the soft, warm, smooth waist of Sansa Stark. 

 

“I’m trying.” She replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, unbeta'd so please forgive my mistakes. Kudos and comments nourish my soul.


	5. Imagine me and you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine me and you - Jonsa as Robin Hood and Maid Marian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Incorrect Jonsa Week' Prompt was: Imagine me and you, asking us to reimagine the couple as famous couples (historically, mythologically, literary etc). I chose Robin Hood and Maid Marian because like Sansa, I love songs were good guys win. Check out my tumblr 'jonsastan' for a matching edit!

Jon smiled as he walked toward the tourney grounds. It was a large prize, but him and the Night’s Watch could make a pretty picking from the lords and ladies and their fat coin purses. 

 

_ A nice gift for the small folk. _

 

He spied Prince Joffrey sitting on the dais, his clothes immaculate, a gold crown perchet on his head, his wormly lips in a sneer. He was well fed and well groomed and his people were starving. As Jon neared the dais he saw her, Lady Sansa Stark. She was beautiful. Always beautiful. She had a lovely blue dress and pearls in her hair. There was bruises around her wrist and Jon knew she had spent most of the evening helping one of the many widows in the town. 

 

“Smile.” He heard the prince hiss at her. “I like it when you smile. You look prettier when you smile.” And her lips curled into a pleasing imitation of a smile, whilst her eyes scanned the grounds, looking for something, someone, perhaps him. 

 

“Your lady looks fine today.” Tormund whispered as he passed Jon. 

 

“She’s not my lady.” 

 

“But you’d like her to be.” 

 

Jon sighed. He had spoken to Lady Sansa Stark once or twice. He saw her sweet and tender nature, and saw how it was being broken and destroyed. 

 

“Maybe I can crown her claim my victor’s kiss from her, when I beat you to a pulp in archery.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat when she saw him. He was strong and kind and generous. She’d heard the tales of the small folk when she visited. Jon Snow, steals from the rich and give to the poor. 

 

_ Kind, and gentle, and strong _ .  _ Just like Father promised. _

 

She shifted in her seat, moving further away from Prince Joffrey. She knew once the melay started she could escape, he would be so focused on the beatings and blood he would not notice her absence, and if he did she could claim an aversion to the sight of blood. 

 

But now she sat and watched the prince of the common people ready himself for archery.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m your Prince, you’ll submit to my will now or on our wedding night.” He had her hands grasped in his own, and was pushing his body into hers. She struggled, pulled away, but was trapped between him and a wall. 

 

“I’ll never marry you.” She glared at him, fighting with everything she had. 

 

“Now, now my lady. You know you want me.” He moved forward and kissed her, one hand leaving hers to clumsily, painfully grasp her breast. She bit.

 

“You fucking bitch.” He hissed, pulling away and drawing the hand that had groped her to his bleeding lip. He had a tear running down his cheek, a reaction from the pain “You fucking little whore.” He slapped her and she felt like her cheek at exploded. Gasping and clutching her face, she turned back to face him. 

 

“I thought princes didn’t cry.” She spat. Her body tensed and her eyes closed as he raised his hand, but the blow never landed on her. She opened her eyes as blow landed across the prince’s jaw. 

 

Jon Snow was on Joffrey, landing blow after blow. 

 

“Stop!” She yelled looking around them. They were alone, but Sansa wasn’t sure for how much longer. “Stop! Stop! We have to go!” She grabbed Jon Snow’s arm and started to pull him away. He stopped and looked at her. His eyes changed from cold hard steel, to a gentle, caressing snow in seconds. 

 

“We have to go.” Sansa repeated, pulling him away from the tourney grounds. 

 

“No, this way.” He pulled her toward the grounds. They began to make their way toward the horses. Sansa felt every muscle in her body tense. She was waiting for the cry of the guards, to feel the hard grip of gauntlet covered hands on her arms but it never came. Soon they were stood before a group of five men and five horses. 

 

“Stealing this one are we?” Asked the tall redheaded man. 

 

“Shut it.” Jon grabbed the reigns of a white horse and turned to her. ‘You’ll have to ride with me.” She just nodded and soon she was lifted into the saddle, was Jon Snow behind her, arms encircling her, leading the horse away. 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You kidnapped the Prince’s betrothed!” Sam yelled. “You do realise that Jon. You didn’t just knick some purses from drunken lords, you kidnapped a human person!” Jon sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

 

“He was hurting her! What else was I supposed to do?” 

 

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe not kidnap the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?” Jon almost chuckled at that. There was a gentle knock at the door and Sansa entered. She’d washed her face, and the blood from her own split lip had gone. 

 

“One of the men, Tormund, told me you wanted to see me.” The bruise on her cheek was already beginning to swell and colour. It would be painful.

 

“Come in, my lady. Sit, sit. I have a salve that should each your pain.” Sam bustled around before moving to sit in front of Sansa. She turned her head to allow Sam access to her check and was facing Jon. 

 

She was strong. Jon had admired that. She had taken Joffrey’s hit and instead of cowering or bending, she had looked him in the eye and mocked him. It took a certain type of strength to do that. 

 

She hissed as that salve touched her bruise. 

 

“Don’t hurt her, Sam.” He scolded without thinking. 

 

“He’s not.” She reassured. “It’s just cold.” They say in silence whilst Sam tended to her. Once he was done with Sansa he made to treat the bruises and cuts on Jon’s knuckles, but Sansa took the salve from him and moved toward Jon. 

 

“I have to thank my protector.” She smiled softly and took Jon’s right hand in hers and carefully applied the salve. 

 

“My lady, not to be impertinent.” Sam began. “But, should you not return to the castle?” Sansa froze. 

 

“I’m not going back there.” 

 

“My lady.” Sam’s voice was full of concern and fear. 

 

“But I shan’t stay here and put you all in danger. My sister is rumoured to have crossed the narrow sea. I shall try and join her.” 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Jon’s voice was firm and his gaze steady as he watched her. “You should stay here. We can keep you safe, protect you. I can protect you.” She finished with his hands and stood, walking toward the door she had entered from.

 

“No one can protect anyone.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

It had been almost a week before the Sheriff of Lannister showed up in the camp. He was a tall brute with an ugly burn covering half his face. Jon and the Night’s Watch had an odd relationship with the man. He was the Prince’s loyal hound and would do almost anything demanded of him. But there was moments, times when The Hound would not take every copper a family had, times when he’d let them off for poaching, times when he’d taken men who had raped and murdered into the woods and no one ever saw them again.

 

But Jon did not trust the Sheriff with Sansa. The Sheriff had seen what Joffrey had done and still stood there by that twat’s side. So he’d hidden Sansa away and bribed the Hound with golden dragons. 

 

When the coast was clear and Sansa was allowed out from her hiding place she looked at Jon with those clever, sad, blue eyes and told him she had to leave. She was dangerous. 

 

Jon didn’t care.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sansa gathered her belonging, meager though they were together. She was sleeping in a small hut Sam and the other Night’s Watch had given her. It was warm enough, it was kind of them. 

 

“Come in.” she called to the soft knock at the door. Jon entered and suddenly the hut felt an awful lot smaller. 

 

“So you’re really going to leave?” He crossed his arms. 

 

“Yes. It’s not safe for anyone whilst I’m here.” 

 

“But you haven’t finished teaching Tormund to read. You’re the only one who can. He just swears at Sam and Pyp gave up ever since Tormund told him that story about the bear.” 

 

Sansa smiled. “I’m sure someone else can take over.” 

 

“What about Sam’s honey mead? You helped with the last couple of batches don’t you want to see how it turned out?” Jon moved toward her and Sansa looked away, fiddling with the sleeve of her gown. 

 

“Sam makes great mead. It’ll be wonderful.” 

 

“And little Robin, he’s only playing with the other kids since you came. He’ll miss you and won’t want to learn how to shoot arrows without you to be the maiden to rescue.” He was closer and Sansa could feel the warmth of his body. She could move away, step back. But she didn’t want to.

 

“I’m sure Jeyne or someone can be the fair maid.” 

 

“What about me?” She looked up and saw those beautiful grey eyes. Those eyes that could be kind, and compassionate, and sweet. Those eyes that could be brutal, and hard, and cunning. Those eyes that she loved. “What am I going to do without you?” 

 

“Jon.” She could feel the warmth of his breath, the gaze of his eyes.  “You’ll be better without me, you’ll be safer without me.”

 

“I’ll be broken without you.” His voice broke on the last syllable and her heart ached. She reached for him and hugged him tightly, holding him to her. “I’ll break if you leave.”

 

“Gods Jon.” She buried her face in his neck, willing herself to be strong. “I don’t want to go. I have to go. If I stay here and I’m found Joffrey will hurt everyone. He’ll torture Sam and Pyp and Tormund. And he’ll- he’ll kill you.” She felt him tense as she spoke of Joffrey. “I can’t let him hurt you. I can’t, I won’t.” 

 

“Sansa.” His voice was soft as fur. “We can live with danger. We do everyday. But I don’t want to live here without you.” He pulled away ever so slightly so he could see her face. His eyes darted to her lips. “Please.” Sansa wasn’t sure if he was pleading with her to stay or to kiss her. She decided both. She moved forward and pressed her lips to Jon’s. And he was everything Joffrey wasn’t. He was gentle and tender and sweet. His hands felt gently to her waist, allowing her to pull away, allowing her space, allowing her freedom. But she didn’t want space or freedom from him. She wanted him. She wanted to stay. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. When she needed to breath she pulled away.

 

“I’ll stay.” She gasped.

 

Jon smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my spelling/grammar my work is unbeta'd. Kudos and Comments nourish my soul.


	6. A Time for Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Time for Wolves - Endgame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incorrect Jonsa Prompt was:a time for wolves Endgame. Check out my tumblr 'jonsastan' for a matching edit.

They’d survived the war. Most of them. Arya and Brienne and Jaime and Podrick and Jon. 

 

_ Jon is home _ . 

 

Sansa had tended Arya’s and Jon’s wounds herself. She had taken the medicine and salves Samwell made, and soothed and bound the wounds herself. 

Arya had broken her right hand and been slashed down her left leg, but the hand was set and wound stitched up. Sansa had stitched it. Her even, beautiful stitched holding her sister together. 

 

Jon had added to his collection of scars, one across his bicep, another down his leg, an arrow through his shoulder. She’d pulled the arrow out whilst Sam held him still. And burns, burns on his arms and legs and neck. Some from Daenerys, some from Rhaegal, but none too bad. Nothing that time and medicine and patience would not heal. 

 

But within two weeks Daenerys was demanding their army march south to exact revenge on Cersei the Oathbreaker and take back the Iron Throne. 

 

Jon had hobbled from his bed to join her.

 

_ “I promised, Sansa.” He’d whispered as she sat beside his bed. “I have to help her win the South so she won’t see me as a threat to her throne.” _

 

She’d been so angry at him, He was so noble, and honest, and dutiful. He was Father all over again. She made him promise to come home, to come back to the North, to come back to her. And he promised. 

 

Jaime went south too. But Brienne, Podrick, and Arya stayed in Winterfell. What was left of it. They stayed and they rebuilt as best they could. They housed and clothed and fed as many people as they could. Sansa gave orders, organised supplies, traded with allies and Arya was content to help the small-folk, to aid Gendry in the forge, to train with Brienne. They got an occasional raven from Jon. Telling them he was safe, they were winning, they all ended the same way. 

 

_ “Sansa, I will keep my promise. -Jon.” _

 

He had left Winterfell a kneeler, a potential prince, an injured soldier, he came back a King. Well, a potential king. 

 

_ “She will grant us Northern independence. With the promise that the heir of Winterfell marries the heir to the Iron Throne.” _ He’d blushed as he said this and it took Sansa a second to grasp the suggestion. 

 

_ “You mean, if we wed, the North is free?” _ Sansa felt her heart lighten. No more appeasing the hatred of the south, no more deferring to others for their safety, just the North.  _ And Jon _ . 

 

_ “I will not force you into a marriage you do not want.”  _ He was so concerned for her, it was written in his brows, and eyes, and lips. 

 

_ “And if I want you?” _ She asked feeling bolder than she had in an eternity. Jon’s eyes shot up to hers. There was hope in those ice grey eyes. 

 

_ “Father promised me someone kind, and gentle, and strong.” _ she murmured moving toward him  _ “I think he meant you.”  _ And she was kissing him, or maybe he was kissing her.  __

 

When their betrothal was announced Sansa had been worried. Worried about the Northern Lords reaction, worried about Brienne and Gendry and Podricks reaction, worried about Bran and Arya’s reaction. 

 

The Lords had revelled in the idea. They were gaining a King and Queen in the North whose name is Stark. They were gaining independence. They were gaining everything. 

 

Gendry hadn’t blinked an eye, saying something about the ways of Lords and Ladies. Podrick had offered congratulations, and Brienne has told Jon he was a good enough fighter to protect Sansa. 

 

Telling Bran had been odd, as were most encounters with Bran. He’s almost smiled and said their Fathers would have wanted this. Before telling Sansa she would look beautiful. Arya had simply shrugged and said  _ “It’s not like Jon was ever your brother. He was always just your family and now he’ll have our name.” _

 

Within a week they stood before the Heart Tree, snow falling softly around them and Jon was not longer a Snow. 

 

Not a month had past since Sansa Stark became a wife and a Queen than questions of an heir were being asked. 

 

_ “Not even a whole moon's turn!”  _ Jon had fumed in their chambers.  _ “As if planning a glass house, rebuilding Winterfell, and supporting the small folk wasn’t enough, they want to add a child to the mix!” _

 

_ “Do you not want children?”  _ Sansa knew the answer, she knew deep in her soul, but she wanted to hear him say those words

 

_ “Of course I do. I’ve always wanted children, even when I thought I was just a bastard.” _ He smiled sadly as he came and sat next to her on their bed.  _ “I thought I would name my son Robb.” _

 

_ “And a girl?”  _ She asked tentatively. 

 

_ “Lyarra, maybe or Alys.” _

 

_ “Would you mind having a girl before a boy?”  _

 

_ “I shall love all our children.”  _ He paused and moved closer, embracing her.  _ “I’ve been wondering about, perhaps, establishing a new custom or two for the North.” _ Sansa hummed a sign for him to continue.  _ “You know how Mormont women are trained to fight?” _ Another hum from Sansa  _ “And how the Dornish don’t consider sex in the line of succession?” _ Sansa turned her head to look at him.  _ “I think we should suggest something similar to the Northern Lords.” _

 

_ “Oh, Jon!”  _ She kissed him, soundly and thoroughly, until she had to stop to breath. 

 

_ “I take it, you like the idea.” _

 

_ “Yes.” _ She breathed before kissing him again, stroking his chest and hair and back, starting on the task of producing an heir. 

 

Within two moons of their wedding Sansa was pregnant. She was a glowing figure when pregnant. Wylas Manderly said she looked like the Mother embodied. Sansa had smiled politely. She continued her duties, trapsing around the castle, slowly people began to follow, begging her to rest. 

 

_ “Please, your grace. Just half an hour with your feet elevated” _ Samwell Tarly had begged.

 

_ “Maybe you shouldn’t run up the stairs to your meetings, your grace.”  _ Brienne had suggested.

 

_ “You really should be wearing another coat.”  _ Arya had scolded. Until one morning eight months into her pregnancy Sansa could not be found. 

 

Jon had been the first to notice, the first to panic, and the first to raise the alarm. Ghost had found her. She was sitting beneath the Heart Tree, on cushions and blankets with an embroidery hoop in her hand. 

 

_ “The whole castle is in a panic.” _ He said with gentle reproach. Sansa’s mood had been unstable of late, she was prone to laugh, burst into tears, or start shouting with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Sansa did not look up from her work.

 

_ “I needed to be here. I needed Father, and Mother, and Robb, and Rickon.” _ Jon nodded his understanding and left her in peace. He organised to have warm drinks and food be brought to her at regular intervals but gave strict instructions that Queen Sansa was not to be spoken to unless she spoke first. Sansa was grateful. 

 

Jon had always kept a cool head in a panic. It was his training as a soldier. He could command in battle, defeat White Walkers, ride his dragon. But the screams of his wife almost drove him mad. It did not matter that it was natural, that it was happening faster than most other births, that Queen Sansa was doing well. She was in pain, and he could not help. She was in pain and he’d gotten her into that state. He stood outside the door and paced. He’s tried to follow them into the birthing room but was told that it was not appropriate. 

 

After the third scream Jon stopped in front of the door and listened for anything. And then he heard her, clear as crystal. 

 

_ “I want Jon. Get me Jon!” _ He pulled the door open without a second thought and flew to his wife’s side. She gripped his hand and tried to smile at him. 

 

_ “You are so brave, my love.” _ He murmured, bringing her hand to his lips.  _ “Braver than I ever could be.”  _ Her face was sweaty and her hair sticking to her forehead, her eyes were wide with exhaustion and fear. He truly believed she was braver than him. He had gone into battle, knowing that he might die, accepting it and not expecting anything. But Sansa had allowed herself to become pregnant, to anticipate a child, knowing her odds of surviving. She had allowed this to happen once and he knew she wanted it to happen again and again and again. She would die for a child she would never know. 

 

_ “You’re not leaving me.” _ He murmured as Sansa squeezed his hand and shuddered.  _ “Promise me Sansa. You’re not leaving me.”  _  Sansa gasped and cringed.

 

_ “I promise.” _

 

Their first son was born 20 minutes later. 

 

Winterfell rang with the laughter of children and Jon could not have been happier. His eldest boy was almost ready to ride a pony and his younger sister was already following him around. 

 

His son looked like him, brown hair, grey eyes and a solemn face even at the age of 5. His daughter looked like Sansa. With auburn hair and a gentle smile, with eyes such a pale blue they might have been violet. Sansa waddled toward him. She waddled when she was close to her time, but Jon would never tell her this. 

 

_ “We’ve had a raven from the Queen in the South.”  _ She handed the scroll to him. His aunt was informing him of her plans to travel North and meet her great-nephew and great-niece. Sansa had been concerned about this. That the barren Queen in the South would want one of her and Jon’s children to sit the Iron Throne. 

 

_ “We are safe. We are home. We are together. We shall remain this way.”  _ He pulled her toward him and pressed his forehead to hers.  _ “I promise.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my mistakes, my work is un-beta'd. Kudos and comments nourish my soul.


	7. Free day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Incorrect Jonsa week prompt: Free day, so I wrote some smut. Consider yourself warned. :)

Jon Snow had always felt  he had reasonable control over himself. He did not overindulge in food or wine, he was skilled in the training yard, and reacted well under pressure. But since his marriage to Sansa Stark, Jon had seemingly lost control over himself.

 

He’d find himself watching her with the Lords, or writing scrolls, or calculating grain storage and in a moment, he’d be picturing himself lifting her onto the table and burying her face between her legs. Sometimes he’d excuse himself and take  _ matters _ in his own hands, so to speak. Sometimes he’d just focus on other things  _ White Walkers, Old Nan, Arya finding us, Tormund and the bear  _ until he could concentrate on other things. 

 

It was not working today.

 

He’d taken care of himself when she’d bent over the table to demonstrate to the lords exactly how Glass Gardens could be built. 

 

He’d thought of every unromantic, un-lustful, unwanton thing he could when her breast had pressed against him as he helped her to her seat and yet his britches were still agonisingly tight. They were sitting in the hall, listening to the last of the Lord's when Jon felt Sansa’s hand on his knee. It wasn’t exactly unusual. They would often touch each others hands, shoulder, knees. It was a way of reassuring each other, _ we are safe, we are together, we are strong _ . But this felt different. 

 

Jon had to stop himself from starting when Sansa’s hand travelled up his leg, to rest on his thigh. 

 

_ Seven Hells _ Jon swore to himself. 

 

He wanted to reach down, guide her hand to where he wanted it most. To lean over and kiss her, burying his hands in her hair and feel her body against his. 

 

But Lord Manderly seemed to drone on and on. 

 

Finally, or perhaps regretfully, Lord Manderly finished and Sansa rose, removing her hand. 

 

“Thank you, My Lords. We shall consider all that has been said today.” She nodded to the Lords of the North and they bowed back. Before Jon could slip an arm around her waist and push her up against a secluded wall, Brienne was at Sansa’s side talking of armour, or training dummies, or something and Jon had to suppress a groan.  

 

He left the hall and headed to his chambers. He needed to take care of things. 

 

He’d only just entered and was beginning to untie his britches there was a knock at his door. He was tempted to be silent, to let the person think he wasn’t there and hope they would leave. But duty knocked.

 

“Enter.” He called after lacing himself back up. He turned and saw Sansa shutting the door behind her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, her hair long and loose and red. 

 

_ Gods she’s beautiful _ .

 

“Sansa.” He begun, but she was in his arms in a moment, kissing him urgently. 

 

“I’ve wanted to do that all day.” She murmured as they broke apart for air. He groaned. He kissed her, and began to walk her backward until her back was against the wall. One hand travelled to her neck and released her cloak, letting the heavy fabric drop to the floor, before his other hand began to work at the laces of her dress. Her arms had been around his shoulder, clinging to him, but now her clever hands worked the laces of his jerkin, his britches. 

 

He finally managed to get the laces of her gown undone and pushed it down her arms, allowing it to fall from her body. Her warm and soft and beautiful body. He moved his lips down her jaw to her neck and smiled at the soft whimper that escaped her when his lips brushed her pulse point. 

 

She was tugging at his shirt, trying to get it off him, having already rid him of his jerkin and undoing his britches. He pulled away and ripped the shirt off over his head, before returning to Sansa’s neck and shoulders. 

 

“Jon.” She moaned, her hands snaking between them to work on the ties of her corset. 

 

“I hate this fucking thing” He cursed as they both worked to loosen the under garment enough to rid her of it. 

 

After what seemed like an age it was finally loose enough for Sansa to pull over her head and chuck to the ground. Jon groaned at the visible peaks of her nipples through her shift. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her upward, pressing her against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist. She whimpered as his length pressed against her. He returned to her shoulders, sucking and kissing her flesh, slowly he nudged the strap of her shift away and Sansa pulled it down to her waist. Jon’s mouth traveled further down, taking a nipple between his lips and feeling a buzz of excitement pulse through him as Sansa whimpered his name. 

 

He loved it when she did that. Like he was the only person in the world, like he was the only thing that mattered, like he was hers and hers alone. Which he was. 

 

“Jon.” She moaned again, her hands moving to tangle him his hair, holding him to her. “Bed.” Jon gripped her arse in his hands and moved them toward the bed. He dropped her and she giggled as she bounced. Her slippers had slid of her feet near the wall and she quickly shimmied out of her shift and smallclothes. Jon kicked off his boots, britches and small clothes before running his hands up her legs. She shivered at his touch. 

 

He crawled up the bed slightly, caressing her gently, kissing her calf, her thigh, her belly, until she was bucking against him, desperate for him to touch her there. He did. 

 

He slowly lowered his head, allowing his bearded jaw to scrape against her thighs before kissing her there. She moaned above him and he felt her hand come to his hair. He smiled as he parted her lips and gently teased her bud of nerves with his tongue. 

 

“Oh. Jon.” She sighed. He brought up a finger and gently ran it along her slit. She was wet. He groaned. His slipped a finger inside her and began to pump, she wriggled against him, seeking more friction and he did not deny her. He slipped another finger inside her and increased his speed whilst sucking, lapping, gently nipping at her bundle of nerves. He reached his other hand up to squeeze her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. He felt her reach her climax, felt the tightening of her muscles and the air leaving her lungs and the tug of her fingers in his hair. 

 

He wiped his face on the some bed sheeting before kissing his way up her body, lingering for a moment on her breasts. She tugged him up to bring his lips to hers. His hips involuntarily thrust against her thigh and Sansa hooked one of her legs around his before rolling them, so she straddled his hips.

 

She sat up, her hands resting on his chest, her hair a curtain of red. She moved her hands down his chest, as his rested on her thighs. Finally her hand grasped his cock. She stroked him a couple of times and he bucked his hips against her hand. 

 

“Gods Sansa.” He almost pleaded. 

 

She smiled as she positioned him at her entrance and lowered herself onto him. Jon’s head fell back and his eyes shut for a moment. Sansa was warm, and wet, and tight, and perfect. He felt her begin to rock her hips and opened his eyes. She was watching him, her hands back to resting on his chest. She began to increase her speed and soon her eyes flickered shut, her hands travelling up her own body to grasp her breasts. 

 

“Fuck.” Jon cursed at the sight.  _ She’s so perfect _ . “Let me. I want to feel-” He moved his hands up to cup her breasts and Sansa moaned to the contact. Her own hands moved behind her to steady herself. Soon Jon was thrusting up to meet Sansa. He watched her breasts bounced as his hips hit hers. He watched her throat and chest flush with lust. He watched her eyes open and meet his with such tenderness, such devotion, such love. He sat up, pulled her body to his, before gently rolling them, so his body was over hers. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he thrust into her deeper, harder than before. 

 

“Oh, Oh Gods Jon.” She was kissing his shoulder, suckling the flesh, giving him love bites that he would smile when he saw. “I love you.” She whispered as her lips travelled over his flesh. 

 

“I love you.” He gasped as one of her hands came around and grasped his arse. “ Love you so much.” He thrust into her, feeling the buzz at the base of spine that meant he would soon be finished. He  changed the angle of hips slightly so he would brush Sansa’s clit and he heard her moan at the change. Soon he felt her tense, her muscles slowing tightening as she neared her climax, his own chasing hers. He trust once, twice, thrice and she was coming, her body tightening, her teeth biting down on his shoulder, her hands gripping him. And he followed, spilling himself inside her, his forehead resting on the pillow above her shoulder, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. It took him a moment to let his breath return to normal, to feel his muscles and blood flowing as usual. He kissed Sansa’s shoulder before rolling to the side and laying in bed. 

 

Sansa stood and disappeared behind the screen to clean up before coming back to bed and chucking at rag at him. He cleaned himself, before turning to Sansa and pulling her flush against his chest. She smiled, a soft lazy smile at him. She reached down and pulled the furs that had been kicked down, up around them. His hand traced patterns on her lower back, feeling the skin rather than the scars, her hand rested on his chest, feeling his breath rather than the scars there. 

 

“Wanting to do that all day?” He asked, his eyes falling shut, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.

 

“Wanting to do that and other things.” She nuzzled into his shoulder.

 

“Other things?” 

 

“Rest up my love, you’ll need it.” He chuckled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my mistakes, my work is unbeta'd. Kudos and Comments are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any and all mistakes my work has not been beta'd. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


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